Touch
by LadyJanelly
Summary: It's about more than survival, it's about recovery. JackWill Slash. Mentions of child abuse. Complete.
1. Reunion

Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail:

Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: R

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

Will knew, the first time he touched Elizabeth under her skirt, in those hectic days before their wedding, that he could not be with her. It was not the feel of her soft womanly curves that pushed him away, though they were alien to him. It wasn't her skin, so much softer and smoother than skin had a right to be, that turned him from their future together. It wasn't her soft gasps and sighs that frightened him into waking from what had been his dream for so long. It was her eyes. As he had looked down into her eyes he had seen a mix of fear and trust, and he had known too well that feeling. He, who had only known pain and force had no way to assure himself that he would not deserve that fear, would not betray that trust.

And so he left her, and went to gather what meager possessions he thought of as his own; his clothing, a few tools, the least of the swords and a single sturdy knife. As an indentured man none of it was his by right, not even the next two years of his life. Governor Swann had offered to buy those last years, but was when Will was marrying his daughter. He had no doubt that offer would be withdrawn.

"Runnin' off, boy?" Mr. Brown's voice was slurred with whisky. His tone was flat, angry. He didn't bother to rise from his place on the floor.

"I am." Will replied, tying a bit of cord around his pack. Even now, as he chose to break the law and all ties to decent society, Will could not find it in himself to lie. He did not turn around, but he listened, his shoulders as stiff as cold steel, waiting for Mr. Brown to approach. He did not.

"Boy..." The old man's voice was thick with emotion, with shame, with regret. "What I took from you all those years ago. It weren't mine ta take. It weren't my due." Will turned at last to face him. These were not the words he had expected on their parting. He really looked at his mentor, one-time-tormentor, for the first time in years. He saw the deep lines of age in the sallow skin, the jaundice in the whites of his eyes. He wondered for how long he had missed this growing infirmity.

"Take it," the old man said, with a vague wave of his bottle at the contents of the room. "There's coin in th' strongbox an' all th' swords ya made. Ya earned it, take it all." Will hesitated, not trusting the offer. He found himself loathe to accept gifts from one who had so hurt him in his childhood, in the days before he had put on a blacksmith's muscle and began to study sword-work.

"Take it!" Brown barked. "Take it an' never let me see yer face again, Turner." And he seemed to deflate in upon himself, and sagged against the wall, his eyes closing. He drew the bottle up against his chest, cradling it like a babe.

Will told himself that it was about survival, as he wrapped up the six best of the weapons he had still in the shop. He told himself that there was no better way to begin his life of piracy than to steal from someone whom he had no doubts deserved to be robbed. He told himself that the fruits of his labors over the years more than made up for these few weapons and coins he was taking. He told himself this was right.

He still felt like a whore.

--------

If you had asked Captain Jack Sparrow, on the fourth of April, what the happiest days of his life had been, he would have said that the best day he ever knew was the day he was reunited with his Pearl, and a distant second would have been that time in St. Augustine. _Triplets, mate. What can compare to triplets?_

If you had asked Captain Jack Sparrow, on the fifth of April, what the happiest days of his life had been, he still would have named his reunion with the Pearl as the best day his eyes had seen. The fifth of April would have been a close second, though, because that was the day that Will Turner walked into that filthy little bar on Tortuga, spotted Jack at a back table and smiled.

"I heard a rumor that the Pearl is looking for sailors," the whelp said. The hope in his eyes made Jack's heart do a little pitter-patter that he hadn't felt in years.

"Could be, could be," Jack teased, twirling and tugging on his mustache to keep his smile from splitting his head. The boy was even more beautiful than he remembered; his skin more golden, his shoulders so wide and strong. "Ye be knowin' any sailors then?"

Will's expression was so earnest, bordering on desperate, that Jack's mouth watered and his groin ached. "You know I can fight, Jack." God, how he wanted to lick those expressive eyebrows, to feel their slick darkness under his tongue. "I can learn to sail, and I'll work hard, you know I will."

It was too much fun seeing the boy riled up, and the rum was singing along his veins. He couldn't resist teasing him more. "Seems t' me, with a ship like th' Pearl, ye should be payin' me for th' experience instead of me payin' you t' learn yer way around a sail." He grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching the boy from the bottoms of his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Something changed in Will then, something in his smile. His lips didn't change, but the warmth leeched out of the deep brown of his eyes, and Jack knew he had taken the teasing too far this time, he just wasn't sure where. "I have nowhere else to go, Jack." His hand reached across the table, covering the sparrow tattoo on Jack's wrist. "Let me join your crew." Work-strengthened fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll earn my keep until I'm good enough to be a full member."

Jack frowned. There was something happening that he could not quite grasp; something in that cold fire in the boy's eyes, or the set of his lips. Oh, but what lips they were. He swallowed hard, feeling his own grin sliding crooked on his face. "We have an accord then?"

Will nodded. "We do."

It was a quick walk back to the dock and onto the Pearl, despite his drunken stumbling. He had expected the whelp to be a bit more helpful-like. Wouldn't have killed him to lend an arm, but he just followed along, carrying a small pack and what looked suspiciously like a cloth-wrapped sword.

Over the rail and onto the deck, they went through the light shuttered doors and into the captain's cabin. Jack grinned and turned, expecting to see Will looking around, appreciating the conspicuous display of wealth. His smile faltered to a look of blank confusion as his eyes didn't meet Will's, but instead the top of his rapidly descending head.

Strong hands were unbuttoning his fly, baring him to the warm Caribbean air. Will's knees came to rest on the floorboards. The boy's eyes, deep and brown, never left him. He was struck with the impression of a baptismal pool filled with rum. It was delicious and wicked all at the same time. Many things filled those unblinking eyes, but desire was not one of them.

Jack had always believed the dishonest man would be easiest to read. The honest man now, you never know when he's going to do something amazingly stupid, or just plain crazy. If he had another few years he might be able to figure out these strange un-pirate-y thoughts going on in that beautiful head, but that wasn't a bet he'd be putting any money on soon, thank you very much. Calloused thumbs brushed over his short and curlies, and he felt himself throb. Will's tongue flicked over his lips and he began to lean in and still no shine of desire warmed those dark eyes.

"No." His admonition came out as an undignified squeak, his fingers catching in those dark soft waves. He held the boy's head back as he pulled his hips away from those tantalizing lips. He coughed, squeaked the boy's name, and coughed again. "Will, ah, what are you on about?"

Something approaching annoyance flashed in those eyes. "We had an accord."

Jack laughed, because really, what else could he do? "Will, Will, Will. I was just havin' you on, mate." He let go of that silk-like hair, his fingers aching with regret. Grinning, he buttoned himself back up. "I wouldn't have the pearl back if it hadn't been for you. Norrington, a noose around my neck, all that. Remember? There's a place here for you, always will be." He drew an X over his heart. "Promise."

He pulled the boy up by his elbow, pleased when a more genuine smile graced those inviting lips. "If you ever joke about such a thing again, Jack, I'll kill you." The threat held no heat, and Jack grinned to hear it. The boy might make a pirate yet. He resolved to ignore the protests of his crotch at this revolting development.

"Right." Jack waggled his eyebrows. "Now that that's all settled, come to bed."

Will hesitated, "Shouldn't I bunk down below with the rest of the crew?" That wary shadow had returned to his eyes.

Jack sat down and pulled off his boots, wiggling his toes against the lush rug under his bed. "Nah, safer here, eh? There's men I would trust with copper that I wouldn't trust with diamonds, savvy?" Let the boy spend his fire figuring that one out. He stretched out on one side of the bed, eyes closed, waiting to see what Will would do. He hoped it wasn't more temptation. A man can only be so generous in any given day.

He repressed a sigh of relief as the boy put away his pack then stretched out on his own side of the bed, still dressed. Jack blew out the lantern, and then lay in the dark, feeling the boy tossing and turning until deep into the night.


	2. A good day

Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail:

Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Chapter: 2/?

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: R

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

Lying down beside Jack Sparrow was one of the most difficult things Will had done in all his young years. It was harder than dueling with Jack, or facing Elizabeth's father. He stretched out, and the bed was the softest he had ever known. He lay tense, expecting something unseemly to happen at any moment, but nothing did. Jack rolled over on his side, turning his back to the former blacksmith, and soon the sounds of his snoring filled the lush cabin.

They slept like that every night afterwards. As weeks and then months passed, Will became more comfortable with the situation, with having another body so close to his while he was sleeping and vulnerable. Some nights were hard, when the smell of rum on Jack was too much like whisky. Some nights were pleasant, as they relaxed together after a day of sailing and sport. On occasion he would wake to the feel of Jack's hand resting on his shoulder or hip, and after a while it stopped sending him into a panic. He still slept in everything but his boots. Jack often chose only close-fitting breeches to sleep in.

The nightmares came to Will then, more often than they had in years. Jack would always wake him with soft touches to his hair and reassuring babble. A strange sort of uneasy peace seemed to settle around him. It struck him as improbable that Jack would choose to share his cabin forever, but he didn't seem to have the energy to worry what would be his lot when this comfort too was taken from him.

If the nights were uncertain, his days aboard the Pearl were a joy. Some nights he went to bed feeling as if his skull must be stretching apart with all of the new knowledge filling it. He learned the art of the sail, and the craft of caring for wood. He learned to read and write more than the few words that a blacksmith would need. At the helm beside Jack he learned to listen to the Pearl's whispers, though he didn't understand what she was telling him yet.

He learned the dance of shipboard-fighting and the strange mix of acting and improvisation required to cheat and win.

The year he had begun sword-work back in Port Royal had been the last that Mr. Brown had any interest in him. The exact opposite was true with Jack. The fire in Will's veins seemed to kindle the fire in Jack's eyes. The harder they fought, the stronger Will could feel the attraction Jack held for him. In the steel-clad shell he had made of his emotions he began to feel an answering stir, a longing.

Will had his first real tastes of piracy as they plundered a British colony ship, and a Dutch shipping vessel. Jack could be fearful when he chose. His voice and manner did more to end those conflicts with a minimum of bloodshed than Will would have believed possible before seeing it with his own eyes.

They never spoke of the past. Jack never asked what happened with the engagement to Elizabeth. Will never asked about his father or Jack's history. Sometimes Jack would amuse him with some fanciful tale, but those were safe and silly and he enjoyed listening to the colorful fabrications.

One morning, months after he had joined the crew, Will woke to find himself pressed tight against Jack's hip, tense and hard against the older man's lithe heat.

"Need a hand with that, whelp?" Jack had asked, his voice filled with mirth and innuendo. He hadn't touched without asking, which Will appreciated.

"Whatever makes you happy, Jack," Will had said, rolling over onto his back, laying his forearm over his eyes, closing out the sight of the room, of Jack.

Without comment Jack carried through on his offer, his work-worn hands coaxing unimagined pleasures out of the boy's body. When it was over Will took the proffered cloth and cleaned himself, then rolled back to face the wall.

"Thank you, Jack," he whispered, knowing he should have offered more, done more, but he could not.

--------

_Almost as good as rum,_ Jack thought as he worked the boy's shaft with his lips and tongue and the muscles of his throat. It took almost a month for Will's desire to awake, for him to begin to respond to Jack's attraction in a way that had nothing to do with commerce. Another fortnight passed before Jack sensed the opportune moment and made his offer. Months went by before Will would let him use his mouth, or hold him afterwards.

A strangled groan burst from the former blacksmith's throat as gold-capped teeth grazed hard across over-sensitized flesh.

Jack was careful to keep his hands only on the clothed parts of the boy's hips. Will was dressed, because he didn't like to be naked. Jack was naked because he did. Jack's mouth didn't tease, he didn't play. If there's one thing that Captain Jack Sparrow understood of the world it was that there's things a man can do, and things he can't.

Right now, Will could not do more than lay there in their bed, his hands clenched in the sweat-dampened sheets and accept the pleasure Jack was giving him. He could not be touched too much. He could not be kissed. He could not return the joys that were given to him. Jack had never felt Will's hands upon his hot and needy flesh. He had never experienced those calloused fingers leaving him undone and satisfied.

And Jack could live with that. For now.

It was enough to be the one that Will would whisper _please_ to in the middle of the night. It was enough to hold him as he slept. It was enough to watch the boy writhing as he experienced more sensation than he could cope with. To be the one holding those sharp hips flat against the mattress. To be the one to taste his sweat and his desire and his completion.

With a cry that sounded more of anguish than pleasure, Will filled his mouth and his throat and Jack swallowed it down. Not a drop was wasted, though the boy tensed as Jack's agile tongue cleaned the smoothness of that skin.

"Thank you, Jack," Will whispered, as he had every time Jack gave him relief.

Jack rolled over onto his back, wrapping both hands around himself, tugging and stroking. It had been too good, seeing Will as he climaxed, tasting him as he spent. His eyes rolled back and his chest bowed up towards the ceiling. The candles flickered, as if the Pearl herself was sharing in his enjoyment of the moment, as it were.

And then a touch, rough fingers against his throat, light as a ghost. It started his nerves to singing in pleasure. It tasted like rum, felt like battle. A string of words were flowing from his lips but he paid them no mind. His own wet heat splattered across his chest, almost to his collarbone. He was panting and gasping and still swearing, and that hand was still touching him.

The wave of pleasure tossed him and turned him and at last swept him in to a calm and sheltered shore. He blinked his dark eyes up to meet the boy's.

"Thank ye, William," he said with a crooked grin, utterly spent and limp and happy.

It had been a very good day.


	3. The value of words

-------

Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail:

Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Chapter: 3/?

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: R

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

Beyond all his expectations, Will discovered that Jack was a patient man. Which was not to say that he would stand for stupidity or laziness or misplaced sentimentality. On the deck of his Pearl, the man would bluster and shout, swear and stomp. There was only one place where Jack's patience seemed without end, and that was in the cabin they shared.

Every time it became easier for Will. He could accept more, enjoy more. The first time he touched Jack he expected to see fear in those kohl-rimmed eyes. Instead there was only joy, desire. Jack's skin was not the childlike softness of Elizabeth's, and for that Will was grateful. Jack was strong, and roughened by the sea. He was scarred and tanned, tattooed and branded. For all that they were just as small as Elizabeth's, Jack's hands showed the signs of a lifetime of work and living. He was confident in the pleasures he sought and the pleasures he gave.

And yet Jack never pushed for more than Will was ready to give. He would offer, he would suggest, but he would never even ask for what he desired. He never began without Will's permission. He was never the one to remove Will's clothing. A year passed since Will parted from Elizabeth. He found he could endure, even enjoy Jack's hands touching his skin; his hips and thighs, his chest and shoulders, his hair and his face.

He could be unclothed with Jack and still be safe.

He could touch Jack if he chose, or not touch Jack if he chose, and either way he would still be safe.

He was touching Jack, stretched out beside him in their bed, his bare flesh pressing, rubbing against Jack's hip. They lay beside each other, always. Will could not bear to be beneath the weight of another person, and he had too much empathy to do that to Jack, no matter that Jack would not care.

It was that night that Jack whispered in his ear, "A bit of sodomy, William?" His voice was full of humor, decadence, temptation. Will tensed and felt himself go cold. "Or not," Jack continued, rolling over to gaze at his younger lover. Those dark eyes were gentle and serious and must have read Will's hesitance.

That strong calloused hand stroked his arm, up to his shoulder, sliding around behind his neck. He would have drawn away, but it was so gentle, so slow. A shiver went through him. Jack leaned in, closing only half the distance between them. Will closed the remaining space, and their lips met in their first chaste kiss. The closeness of it, the intimacy, was almost too much but Will's courage held.

Even in this there was nothing but gentleness in Jack's touch. His lips slid softly across Will's, his tongue teasing out to give them the barest touch. He tasted of rum and spices and the salt of sea-spray and to Will there had been no better taste in his life. That taste re-awoke the fire in his loins, the love in his heart. He knew he was no great lover; that his kisses were amateur at best, but Jack seemed to appreciate them. The pirate pulled away enough to gaze at him, grinning crookedly.

He had never questioned before, if Will declined one of his invitations. "Are you sure you don't want to have a go?" Those eyebrows waggled at him again. "You know you won't hurt ol' Jack, right?"

Will swallowed. He had never thought that this would be a thing that was offered to him, instead of being taken from him, and no, he couldn't imagine it being done without pain to at least one person.

"Help me," he whispered, hoping that Jack understood what he needed. Jack never made him wait for anything. He was on his knees, facing Will, in a heartbeat. A bottle appeared as if by magic between those dusky, bejeweled fingers and Will found himself smiling despite his anxiety.

"You planned thi..." Jack's oil-slick hand on his shaft cut off his teasing reprimand. Jack was touching himself too, his other arm behind himself. Will flushed as a ragged sound of pleasure came from his lover's lips. The thought that pleasure could be derived from a touch in that place was strange to him, but many things Jack did or enjoyed were strange, so he accepted it.

Will had seen Jack swim before, when the summer sun was too warm and the dolphins were dancing along the Pearl's side. He had been so lean and agile and flexible in the water, more eel than man. It was like that now, as he positioned Will on his side, then rolled so his back was to the younger man. Their hips, they...fit. Jack twisted at the waist, enough that Will could see his face.

The glee on Jack's face made him look almost demented; all gold teeth and white rings around the dark irises of his eyes. And then a strong heat enveloped him, and he had no more thoughts on Jack's appearance or any other thoughts for that matter.

It was more than he had ever imagined, having his body inside of Jack's. He could not comprehend an act more intimate. He cried out from an ecstasy that was as much emotional as physical. He was taken, he was loved, he was safe.

----------

Jack Sparrow, for all his love of words, was never a man to place much value in them. Words were like pretty baubles. They could distract your enemies, entertain your friends. They could be traded sometimes, for things of more value and use. A hungry man couldn't eat them, a thirsty man couldn't drink them.

And yet now he hungered for the words Will would not say, and the silences where those words should be was too dry by half. Will lies half on top of him in their bed, naked and sweaty and spent. He does not speak, and Jack thirsts for words, for any words at all. The silences have filled the nights after they have made love and the mornings before they begin their day. He is parched with waiting and wanting and needing.

In this, he knows he is as failed as a pirate can be, for he has given everything, and taken nothing. He has given to Will the ability to trust. He has given him two years of his life and his bed. The closer Will is to him in body, the further he seems to be in heart. Jack is afraid to offer him that last pleasure, for fear the resulting silence would steal the very air from his lungs. Will's gentle glances have grown melancholy. Something akin to sorrow lingers in the depths of those brown eyes when he watches Jack on the deck of the Pearl.

Will rolls off, and begins to dress, even though it is late and they are free from duty until the morning.

"Whelp?" Jack asks, and his voice even sounds dry, brittle in the quiet of their cabin.

"Go to sleep, Jack," the boy tells him. "I'm going topside to watch the sea for a while." Maybe just any words wouldn't do after all.


	4. Marooned

Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail:

Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Chapter: 4/?

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: NC-17

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

* * *

Will was watching the sea again, and Jack lay all by his onesies between the sticky sheets in their cold bed. He felt marooned, abandoned. How a man could be so alone on a ship full of sailors and pirates, not even Captain Jack Sparrow could make sense of. 

There was a mystery here, and Jack did not like mysteries, unless they were of his making. He savvied what had happened to Will, sometime before they met. Maybe not the details, and maybe not the name of the man who had done it, but he understood the pain and shame that had been in that boy's eyes.

What he didn't know was what was going on in that still-not-piratey head now.

_You never should have touched him,_ he couldn't tell if it was Pearl whispering or his own guilty conscience. _Not really a safe port with ol' Jack always around to take advantage, now is it?_ No, not Pearl, definitely his own guilt.

He stared up at the swaying lantern that hung from the ceiling. He was frowning, and while he might like to pretend to frown, the real thing was a bit less fun.

_I have nowhere else to go..._ Will's words echoed back to him. _I have nowhere else to go, Jack..._

So the boy had stayed for the necessity of it, because there was nowhere else.

He had become a pirate, and a damn good one, not because it was in his blood, but because something chased him from Port Royal.

He had let Jack heal him because no one else could.

He had stolen a place in Jack's bed and in his body because there was no one else that he thought would have him.

Jack felt a stab of jealousy for Lizabeth. The boy might not have loved her any more than he loved Jack, but at least she found out without losing two years of her live and all of her heart to him.

It hurt like the inside of his breast-bone was being branded with the boy's name. He rose from the bed and went in search for a bottle of rum, tripping on a pile of loot on the floor, kicking it in his impatience. The spicy sweet bite helped. The hot iron inside of his ribs faded from red to black. He began to pace as he drank.

He wanted, in the depths of his weasely black heart, to hate the boy. He wanted to go out on the deck and....do...do...well, _something _bloody awful. The bottle of rum came up empty, and he dug another one out of his coat pocket.

He drank and drank, waiting for Will to come back to bed (_mine, not ours,_ he thought) or for himself to gather the courage to go confront the boy.

As it happened to be, courage arrived first. Nigh-pickled, he staggered out onto the deck, ready to fight or fuck or maybe fall on his knees and beg the boy to love him.

Will's back was to him, elbows leaning against the rail as he watched the moonlight on the water. He turned, and for a heartbeat there was peace in the depths of those dark eyes, quickly covered by a flicker of uncertainty. A frown appeared between his eyebrows.

"Jack?"

He couldn't keep him. He couldn't own him. Beyond all else, he couldn't look at him right now, so he took up a position at the rail Will had abandoned.

"I'll put you off at whatever port suits yer fancy," Jack began. His treacherous mouth was failing him, not saying things the way he wanted them to sound. "I'll buy ye whatever you need. Forge, shop, ship. Smart boy like you, it shouldn't be too hard t' make a go of it."

Will was silent behind him. Pearl whispered her support through his thoughts.

"Jack..." The boy's voice sounded strangled, not grateful, and Jack gripped the ship's rail until it felt like the tips of his fingers would be bruised. He couldn't look. He couldn't watch this.

"Please don't send me away. I can change. I can ask for less. I can give more. Jack, please..."

He hated to hear the boy in pain, but it would be better this way. Let 'im go free. Let 'im find somebody that would make him happier than ol' Jack could. Let 'im choose someone instead of settling for the first convenient dirty old pirate.

"Am I too old?" Will's whisper recaptured his attention, and he briefly considered that perhaps this would have been better done with a tad less rum.

"Have I grown too bold in your bed? I thought that was what you wanted, Jack." Anger was growing in his voice, like low-burning embers being slowly fanned to flame. His voice was tight, controlled. He would not shout or cry. The ship was too small for that; there was crew everywhere, even at this time of night. He wouldn't shame Jack or himself in that way.

"It was what I wanted. Is. What I wanted." _I wanted you to be free of fear, free to love me..._but words like that held a danger of their own, and he would not speak them lightly.

"You called me a diamond once, Jack. Do you remember? When did I turn to cut glass?"

"Never." The word was rough in his throat. "You'll always be a diamond, boy."

"Then why are you trying to put me off of your ship like something worthless?"

Jack's control snapped and he spun away from the rail, moving towards Will before he realized it. His calloused hands slammed the boy's chest, throwing him back a few steps, but not off of his feet. Hurt and confusion showed on those so-fine features, but he didn't fight back. The wall of the forecastle came up behind Will, and Jack shoved him one last time, just hard enough to press him against it.

"Why?" the younger man whispered, and it was a request, a challenge, a demand.

Jack felt like his eyes were too hot, his ribs too tight. His lips pulled into a sneer. It hurt too much, and all he had to shield himself with was his anger. "Because _I am Captain Jack Sparrow,_ and I cannot abide having half of a thing. I want it all, and if I can't take it, I don't want to be reminded that it even exists. Savvy?"

Will sighed. "Jack, you are drunk and making no sense."

Jack's fingers clenched into fists, gripping the linen shirt on either side of William's neck. He heard a strange noise, and then realized it was his teeth grinding together.

"I am saying that I love ye, boy, but I will _not_ keep a man that doesn't love me back!" he shoved himself away from the younger man, fearful that he would strike him if he looked into those dark eyes one moment longer.

"Jack..." relief and even humor colored the boy's voice, and Jack turned in stunned shock, trying to understand if he was being made fun of. Will's broad hand cupped his cheek, calloused thumb running over his lips. He knew he should pull away, but it felt too good, and it was too unexpected to react to.

"Jack, I thought this...all of this time, that it was just sex to you. I thought you would tire of me. I tried to leave you alone some time so you wouldn't see too much of me. I tried to give you time in Tortuga to visit with the ladies."

"What're you sayin', lad?" He was wary still. He had known too much pain, too much betrayal to trust easily.

Will's other hand came to rest on his hip, and he knew he was lost. No matter what the boy said, he was lost.

"I am saying that I love you, Jack. I'm saying that I would rather die than leave. I'm saying that there is nothing I wouldn't do to be able to stay with you."

Slow, as if he was afraid Jack would pull away, Will leaned in. The first kiss was the barest brush of lips against lips. The second was soft and teasing; Will's tongue reaching out to touch his, but it would not pass his teeth. The third kiss was a rough pillaging of his mouth that left him dizzy and gasping for breath.

"Come to bed, Jack." Will whispered, and all Jack could do was nod.

Will's hands were strong, gentle yet firm against his body, his face. He used his hands to show jack that he meant what he had said. He told him again and again the night through, with his eyes, his lips.

By morning, Will's love was a thing beyond doubt, beyond question. It was as real to Jack as the planks of the Pearl beneath his feet or the wind in her sails.


	5. The End

Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Chapter: 5/5

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: NC-17

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

* * *

"No..." the whisper was soft and pleading, just loud enough that Jack was aware of it. Will never said no when he was with Jack, which meant that even if Jack was in bed with Will, Will was not in bed with Jack.

Jack fought himself free of sleep's hold, suppressing a groan and gathering his wits about him. The other had Will again; the man who ruled the boy's nightmares, the man who haunted his eyes.

"No, please! I'll earn my keep another way...another way..." Some words were whispered, some almost shouted. The young man's face became pinched, fearful in the pale moonlight that slipped through the glass of their window. Jack frowned, piecing together who Will would have said those words to. He remembered the first night he had brought Will back to the Pearl after they found each other in Tortuga. After all this time, he knew the name of the man who had hurt his Will.

The knowledge alone brought him a grim sort of satisfaction.

"William" Jack called, pressing a hand to the boy's chest. "William, come back now. That's no place to visit, much less live. Come back to ol' Jack." He stroked a weathered hand over those soft dark curls. He knew from experience that it was no good scaring the boy awake, and scaring the boy was a mite too easy when he was dreamin' like this.

The steady flow of words soothed the ex-blacksmith, and he relaxed before his eyes flickered open. "Jack? Did I wake you again"

Jack smiled in that crooked-grin, gold-flashing way that he knew Will loved. "Not a bit of a bother, luv."

Will sighed contently and curled up with his head pillowed on Jack's shoulder.

Months had passed since their confessions of love, and that time had been just short of perfect. He had the Pearl. He had Will. Without the fear of rejection, they had both become a mite more comfortable as it were. The only thing standing in the way of Jack's utter contentment was this thing that still plagued his boy. What hurt Will hurt Jack and Jack was having none of it.

"The blacksmith, eh" Will didn't need to answer. Jack could feel the tensing of the naked lean body next to his. He could hear the shift in the boy's breathing. "Would ye like him dead or maimed"

"I want him forgotten" Will sighed. "I want him gone from my life and my memory."

Jack pouted, turning dark mournful eyes down to his lover. "I can't kill him just a little bit"

"No, Jack." The boy sounded exhausted.

It was silent in the cabin for long minutes.

"If ye ever change your mind..." Jack offered in his most helpful voice.

Will was forced to chuckle. "You'll be the first to know, I promise you."

More quiet. Jack hummed to himself, some tune he had heard in a tavern.

"Jack" Will nuzzled his cheek against Jack's chest.

"Aye lad"

"Will you help me forget? Not today, but sometime when I'm not thinking about it." In the boy's voice lingered something that he wasn't saying, and mayhaps should be.

"Eh? What are you on about, whelp" Jack ran his fingers through Will's hair, trying to relax him into saying the things Jack needed to hear about.

"I mean, I want you inside of me." His voice was a whisper. "I want you to show me why it's so good when I do _that_ for you. I want new memories. I want you to be the one to give them to me."

The very idea sent a shiver of pure lust through Jack that he couldn't hope to contain. "I thought you'd never ask" he teased with a sparkling grin.

_Not tonight, sometime when I'm not thinking about it..._ the sails of his mind filled with planning, scheming. He was Captain Jack Sparrow. He had no doubt he could arrange a suitable distraction.

Unfortunately for his conspiring, Will chose that moment to lean in and nip at his jaw, right in that sensitive spot where a knife scar had left a tiny bit of skin without beard. A groan slid from his throat and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Wasn't it s'posed to be later" He protested, more for the principle of the thing than because he didn't want to.

"For _that_" Will informed him. Even without _that_, it was a pleasurable evening indeed.

-

Jack frowned. The boy might be hard, but beyond that he gave Jack no indication he was enjoying himself. His eyes were shut tight, tension showing in every line of his fine features. A muscle jumped along his jaw, and Jack knew it was taking every bit of courage the boy possessed not to tell him no.

With one last nudge of his oil-slicked finger against Will's clenched opening, Jack abandoned the "new memories" portion of his dastardly plan and turned his efforts to the "making Will shoot like his bollocks were filled with gunpowder" part.

Even that was not as easy as it had been a month ago. He could see the boy trying to relax, trying to loosen the clench of his fists in the sheets, trying to let his legs fall naturally on either side of Jack's shoulders. Trying, aye, but trying so hard it was becoming its own source of aggravation for them both.

Jack pulled back, giving Will's arousal one last flick of his tongue.

He scrunched his nose and tugged on his beard. This was not the way to make new memories, at least not of the "good memories" variety.

Brown eyes gazed down at Jack, and Jack gave him a crooked grin in return. "Apologize and ye'll be scrubbin' the bilges for a week" he threatened. Will's guilty little smile let him know that was exactly what the boy had been about to do.

The problem was that for all his simplicity and lack of guile, Will was a difficult man to distract or surprise when it came to Jack trying to satisfy this very straight-forward request the boy had made. A month had passed and it felt like they were somehow moving hard against both wind and tide. If the situation grew any worse, he feared Will would stop enjoying his touch altogether.

The younger man stared down at him for long moments, and Jack desperately wished he knew what to say next. "Don't stop" Will whispered, and the pirate felt a flicker of uncertainty.

"An' you're sure about this" Jack questioned, nuzzling the soft skin of the boy's inner thigh.

"I trust you, Jack. I...love you."

With the smallest of frowns, Jack dipped his finger back into the oil, and then pressed against the tight muscle again. He took his time, hoping the boy would relax, hoping it would become easier.

"Now, Jack." Will whispered, and he could deny him nothing. He slid his finger inside, stroking his other hand against the young man's shaft at the same time, trying to distract him from the discomfort of it. He tried to ignore the distressed gasp the boy let out as he was breached; he stroked him until his back settled once more on the bed. With every bit of skill he had ever possessed, he began to move.

In all his days, Jack Sparrow had not felt anyone so tight, so tense. He could not believe his ears when Will whispered"Jack, more."

"William, lad..." he felt like he was navigating shallow waters, with reef and rock beneath to tear open the hull of his happiness. He nuzzled and licked and tried to make this good. He had never been afraid in his own bed before, not even when Barbossa's boys kicked in his door.

"I want this, Jack." And the whelp never could lie worth a penny, so he knew it was the truth. Their eyes met, and Jack saw the desire and the fear at the same time.

When Will whispered "More" again, he gave him more. What else could he do? The second finger slipped past the increased resistance. Will writhed on the bed. His long legs trembled. Jack watched his face for some sign that he should pull away, that he should stop. He kissed the tip of the younger man's arousal and felt him relax around his fingers for the first time.

"Yer safe" Jack whispered. "I swear on me honor as a pirate, and me honor as a good man. I swear. I swear." A strained sigh slipped from the boy's throat, and Jack moved his fingers deeper, searching for that place, that treasure. He stroked it, feeling the boy's pulse in the vein there, hard and fast. Will shivered around him, gasping and whimpering. The former blacksmith's back arched as he tried to pull away and push down at the same time.

All Jack could see of his face was the underside of his chin. This would not do at all. He stopped moving his fingers. "Will" he called, a captain's voice in the safety of their cabin. Will shivered again and at last lay still.

"Jack" His voice was filled with soft confusion. It was if he couldn't fathom Jack's concern for him.

"Look at me, whelp." He nipped at the inside of Will's thigh for emphasis. Will lifted his head, dark eyes almost annoyed. "Keep lookin' at me, aye? I want to see that you see who it is between yer knees, savvy" A flicker of a frown passed between them, a play of power, command. In this, Jack could not afford to lose, and at last the younger man nodded.

-

He did trust Jack. He did love Jack.

"Aye, Jack." He stuffed the pillows more firmly under his head, and watched as Jack took him in his mouth once more, and watched as Jack slipped a third finger into him, spreading and stretching him before they pulled away. He watched as his feet were positioned on the tanned and freckled shoulders. He watched as the shaft that he had known in his hands and in his mouth and against his stomach was slicked with oil.

His gaze seemed to be all the encouragement the pirate needed, and Will would not let it waver.

Neither of them blinked as Jack sank deep into him, hard and hot. The sensation was familiar, yet new. _Jack...this is Jack,_ he reminded himself. Dark eyes stared down at him. Jack could be so mysterious at times, and yet now, in this moment, every shade and nuance of concern was written plain there for Will to see.

"More" whispered Will. Jack gave him all that he had, all that he was.

New memories. New pleasures. Jack taught him things that night that he had never dreamed were possible. He touched Will in ways that seemed wrong, yet felt oh-so-right. He showed him the heights of love and the power of his desire. The world became a new place.

When at last they collapsed into each other's arms, he knew that the nightmares of his youth had lost their hold on him. He was a new man, a free man.

-

_One night does not remake a man, any more than one pass over the flames remakes a bar of metal into a sword, but that first step, that first strengthening, had been accomplished. Will still had dreams sometimes, but they had less power over him, and with the passing of the seasons they no longer mattered. _

_Jack remained Jack; a scoundrel and rogue, but he never betrayed his lover's trust, and he was always there when Will needed reminding that he was safe and strong and wanted. _

_Few things went unspoken between them, and those never seemed so important. Will never asked Jack how he had known what to do to soothe his injured soul, who had taught him and why. He never asked if Jack had been hurt once too, though on some level his heart knew it was true. _

_Jack sent some men from Tortuga to pay a visit to a certain aging blacksmith. An unnecessary visit, as it turns out. He never asked Will about the rumor the men brought back to him; that the smithy had burned to the ground the night the pirate of an apprentice boy had run away._


End file.
